For some dark reason, which it is difficult indeed to fathom, belief in patriotism in our day is held to mean principally a belief in every other nation abandoning its patriotic feelings.  In the case of no other passion does this weird contradiction exist.  Men whose lives are mainly based upon friendship sympathise with the friendships of others.  The interest of engaged couples in each other is a proverb, and like many other proverbs sometimes a nuisance.  In patriotism alone it is considered correct just now to assume that the sentiment does not exist in other people.  It was not so with the great Liberals of Mrs. Browning’s time.  The Brownings had, so to speak, a disembodied talent for patriotism.  They loved England and they loved Italy; yet they were the very reverse of cosmopolitans.  They loved the two countries as countries, not as arbitrary divisions of the globe.  They had hold of the root and essence of patriotism.  They knew how certain flowers and birds and rivers pass into the mills of the brain and come out as wars and discoveries, and how some triumphant adventure or some staggering crime wrought in a remote continent may bear about it the colour of an Italian city or the soul of a silent village of Surrey.